


Of Hearts and Intestines

by Potoo



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 02:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5691388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potoo/pseuds/Potoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claudine is five years old. She is more curious about life's mysteries than either of her parents are equipped to deal with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Hearts and Intestines

“They anointed the King,” her mother tells her father as they work in her father's working room, side by side, crunching up leaves Claudine does not yet know the names of. Claudine herself is running around in circles trying to catch the cat that has sneaked into the house. The smell of herbs and blood permeates their house as it always does. Sunlight falls in through the windows high over the cabinets: the windows are open and a slight draft wavers through the room, but it's not strong enough to take away the comfortingly pungent smell. “In the cathedral of Reims. He shall stay our King, and what the nobles say makes no matter.” 

“He is not yet sixteen,” she hears her father replying carelessly. “A mere child, if you ask me.” 

“And yet divine, chosen by the Lord,” her mother adds in a lilting voice. Claudine catches the cat and revels in the success for but a short moment before the beast scratches her and she lets it go in surprise. Blood wells on her arm and tears form in her eyes, but she reaches out for her father calmly. He picks her up and balances her on one arm while she wraps her arms around his neck. It's not a safety measure: she knows he will never let her fall. She just likes to hug him. “Besides, it is still Mazarin ruling over us,” her mother continues. “The King may turn sixty and that Italian bastard will still be our ruler.” 

Father chuckles at that, so Claudine laughs as well. She does not understand what her parents are speaking of. She hasn't seen this 'King' yet and doesn't think she wants to see him either. If he's almost sixteen years old, that makes him incredibly old: almost eleven years older than her. She finds such old people incredibly boring. “Are you hurt, _petit trésor_?” her father asks and Claudine remembers the blood on her arm. She turns it towards the light. The cat's claws have left long gashes and she suddenly remembers that it hurts. Claudine nods and decides she should be crying a bit for good measure, so she does. “Come now. It is not so bad. Madeleine, would you open that cabinet and fetch me what's inside?” 

Father puts her down on his workbench and gazes at the wound. He smiles at her. “It is not so bad, Claudine.”

“It hurts very badly,” she tells him between two sobs, “very very much. Make it better, please.” 

He wipes a piece of cloth over her skin and the blood vanishes. Claudine stares at her arm in amazement; now that she can see the wound more clearly, she sees it wasn't so deep as she had thought, more like a rise on her skin from whence the blood came. It already seems to be healing: no new blood follows. Claudine has almost forgotten that she's supposed to be in pain when she raises her arm and licks the wound experimentally. It doesn't taste bad, only a bit weird, like her father's coin she had accidentally swallowed. She licks again and all the rest of her pain disappears in her amazement – and in the cool saliva pooling on the wound. “Here, that should make it better,” her father says and she looks up to find him holding out a doll at her. 

Claudine can't grasp all the joy in her body. She beams wider than the sun. The doll is wonderful!! Has she ever been hurt? She can't remember ever feeling so joyous! She grabs it and looks at it reverently. 

Her mother looks at her father and her with warm eyes. “A gift for the child in honor of the King's coronation,” she comments, smiling. 

“That smile is worth more than any crown,” her father adds. Claudine looks up at the two of them from her doll and stands up on the workbench; it makes a dangerous creaking sound, but she jumps forward to hug her father and yell “Thank you!” into his ears. 

Her father smiles his benevolent smile and turns back to his wife. They exchange another few phrases on politics. When he turns back to the workbench, Claudine has sat down, taken a sharp knife and torn apart the doll from pretty black-haired head to tiny toes. She's pulling out all the stuffing – a mixture of feathers and sawdust – and spreads it out systematically, sorted by different brown shades. 

“... _Trésor_? What are you doing?” her mother asks. Claudine is so engrossed in her work that she doesn't hear her, mumbling about how it all feels wrong and that there should be a heart and wondering why she hasn't found a heart yet, which should obviously be right _there_? “Claudine!” her father says loudly. 

“It's all wrong!” she tells him, agitated but curious. “I can't find a heart, _Papa_! And no int–in– instine!” 

“Intestines?” her mother helpfully supplies. 

“Intestines!” Claudine crows happily. “It's not like in real people, like the ones _you_ open!” 

“You're... supposed to– it's a doll, not a real– why can't you play like a nor–” her father attempts to say, but closes his mouth when he sees Claudine's hopeful, inquiring gaze. “There is nothing wrong with the doll,” he finally settles on. The unspoken words 'it's you there's something wrong with' linger in the air around them. Silence settles uncomfortably. 

It is broken neither by Claudine nor by her father, but by her mother. “If she wants to see real intestines, why do we not allow her to see some during the next corpse you examine?” Mirth colors her voice. “She'll lose her taste for them soon enough after that and become a proper lady.” She pinches her cheek and Claudine makes a face.

“Please, papa?” she directs her attention away from her mother to her father. “Can I watch you examine the next corpse?” A corpse is just a tall doll, after all – she doesn't understand why she's not allowed to join her father in the first place. “I won't be bothering you a bit.” 

Her father sighs. The bad miasmas around a corpse are not for a child to breathe in, but he has a feeling that she will keep bringing this up for the whole of the next month if he doesn't allow it. “If we have child kings, we can have child doctors as well,” he settles on saying. Her mother surpresses a giggle. Claudine inclines her head, unsure if that's a 'yes' but very hopeful. “Fine. One examination.” 

Claudine beams, hugs him, and goes back to studying the innards of the poor doll.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I love Claudine. What a great OC. 
> 
> Historical note: Louis XIV was crowned King when he was four, but he was anointed again right after the Fronde to affirm his claim on the throne.


End file.
